


Her Magician, His Countess

by Magic_SD



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Rating May Change, Samir is in his head more than he likes, empath but not a betazoid this isn't Star Trek, it's a novelization but with some new elements in it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28767945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magic_SD/pseuds/Magic_SD
Summary: Guided by intuition and empathy, a magician strives to solve Countess Nadia's mystery. Neither are aware of how deep their fates are intertwined, as they struggle to free Vesuvia from its painful past. (Male!Apprentice/Nadia)
Relationships: Apprentice/Nadia (The Arcana), Samir Al-Amin/Nadia Satrinava
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue: A Magician's Long Night

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Ay to the o, I have rewritten this prologue yet again. Goodness gracious. In any case, this will be crossposted on FFN, as well as here. 
> 
> Honestly, I'm struggling to make this right. Descriptions are DAMN hard. 
> 
> Please, enjoy!

Looking out the window, I can barely make out the lanterns' light, as fog is starting to blanket over the empty streets of Vesuvia. Unsure of how to interpret this omen, my eyes fall on Master Asra's silhouette, reflected in the window's glass as he stands under the low lamplight. I can feel his eyes studying me, and shut the curtains off to face him as I give him the once-over, arms folded. Asra sets down the cup on the counter, his purple eyes meeting mine, a frown forming on his face when he starts to speak.

"I'll miss you, Samir."

"Must you leave _tonight_ ?" I ask, head tilted in curiosity.

"It's the dead of a moonless night. The right time to start a journey," he says, with a small smile.

_Right, you're going to avoid my questions again._

With a low sigh, Asra reaches in the pocket of his robes, and hands me a familiar deck of cards. A beautiful purple pattern is designed on their back, and there's an interesting heart design etched to them. His magical energy reaches out to me as I feel them under my fingers.

"Take these."

_Unusual. He's not the type to give gifts._

"It's my tarot deck. Play around with it while I'm gone."

I cast him an incredulous look as I pocket the cards with care. "You think I'm ready, Master?"

"You still call me that..." Asra trails off, visibly embarrassed. "You know I can't answer that for you."

I lapse into silence, confused by his behavior, as my gaze rests for a moment on the purple, starry curtains that cover the back room's entrance. I can hear Asra speaking to me once more, and focus my attention back to him.

"You've made incredible progress, but you still won't let go of your doubt. Do you think you're ready?"

_It's... difficult to answer. And you're also a difficult teacher._

"Why don't you ever answer my questions, Master Asra?"

There's a hint of shock in his eyes. "I– I don't? Well, I may not have all the answers you seek. But the cards do, if you know how to use them. And you do know how to use them, whether you believe it or not."

_Hah. At least they convey the truth, and don't avoid questions._

Asra puts a hand on my shoulder, a gentle smile upon his lips. "How about we practice tonight? Let's see how well you've learned, how powerful you've become."

"Because you're _never_ around?" I ask, doubting his words.

_You keep saying I'm so powerful and gifted, yet I can hardly believe you._

"Someday you'll find a _real_ teacher..." Asra sighs for a moment.

He then leads me towards the back room, parting the curtains with a gesture, giving me a strange look I cannot understand before we enter. I take up the seat under the window, and notice how the lamplight above us casts the reading table in a gentle blue light, before my eyes fall back on Asra's face. I catch that absent look in his eyes once more, and briefly shake my head as I pull the deck out of my pocket.

Just as I was about to start shuffling the cards in my hands, something smooth slithers over my ankles, and I notice a familiar light blue snake on the right side of the table, as it rises its body with a low hiss. Red eyes stare at me for a moment, and I find myself smiling at the snake's presence.

_Faust, Asra's snake familiar. She looks happy tonight._

Asra leans slightly towards the snake and extends his arm for her. The animal takes upon his offer and slithers up until she reaches his shoulders, gently squeezing them as Asra gives her a friendly pat on the head.

"Well, since everyone is now here... I think we can start."

Giving the two my best smile, I start to shuffle the deck with slow, calculated movements, thinking about Asra's reasons, about his unexpected need to journey. Picking up three cards, I lay them gently upon the table, face down, tension rising in my chest at whatever the cards hold tonight.

I flip the top left card, hand shaking, and then find myself relieved at the figure that peers back at me. An ancient owl, dressed in elegant robes, gentle yet scrutizining eyes searching mine. _The High Priestess. Patron of Intuition, the one that reveals the secrets of magic._

I give Asra a curious look. "...It's the High Priestess."

"And, what is she telling you? Is she speaking to you right now?" he asks, posture expectant.

Her magic radiates off me like the waves of the sea, as they crash upon the shore with noticeable strength. I remark the unusual fluctuations of energy, as her magic isn't this turbulent... and hear the Priestess' voice speaking with urgent, almost warning tones, conveying me her visions.

_The more I hear, she tells me Asra has ignored her voice, her guidance. Her pleas landed on deaf ears. Why–_

"You've forsaken her," I say with a stern voice.

"I– I did?" Asra asks, surprised by my words.

"You've buried her voice. Shut her out, ignored her pleas. Master, if you keep doing so, I fear–"

Loud, sharp knocks jolt me out of the magical link, and Asra gives me a curious look, while Faust is softly hissing on his shoulders. "Did we forget to put out the lantern outside?"

I have no idea what to answer, as I pick up the cards stack by stack, and the strange emotions that tug to my magical senses. _Apprehension. Curiosity. Fear._ Unsure if Asra had picked up on them as well, I part my lips to speak, when I see him rifling through his belongings. After what seems like a few minutes, he's wearing his large black hat, colorful feather swaying with every move of his head, and a red scarf protects his neck.

His eyes give me the once-over, and I can tell he's hesitating for a moment. Asra then places a hand over my shoulder and asks me to look after myself and the shop, then slips through the back door without a sound. I let out a long, exhausted sigh, and drag myself towards the steps leading to the second floor of the shop, when I hear knocking on the door once more.

_The same emotions are reaching out... Might as well see who it is, and how can I help at this late hour, then._

I stride towards the front door, and open it without hesitation. Under the lantern's light, there's a woman wearing a shawl, slightly taller than myself, and I invite her in with a nod as a gust of cold wind brushes over my face. _Drat, it's nearly freezing cold outside!_

With a frown, I go to the stove salamander, and ask it to make it a little warmer in here, as the creature replies to me with a low growl. Satisfied at the thought of rectifying my lack of hospitality, I take a better look at the woman before me, as she stands under the shop's interior lamplight. Her face is still obscured by the shawl, and she seems to be wearing a dappled sky blue and purple dress. Sheer sleeves cover her arms, and a golden corset is carefully framing her waist. Many rings adorn her fingers, metal and precious stones gleaming under the light, and it isn't difficult to discern what kind of woman she is.

_Noble. She seems to be carrying herself with pride._

For a moment, I wonder if I should break through the strange silence between us, when she begins to speak, her voice startling me. I'm not sure if it is because it sounds so soft, caressing my ears like silk, or because I find it a stark contrast with her striking appearance.

"Forgive me for the late hour, but I will not suffer another sleepless night," she says, unwinding the shawl.

Her face is now illuminated in the lamplight, and my heart leaps into my throat as I take in her features. Long, elegant purple hair, ruby-red eyes... I stare at her in shock, unable to comprehend her presence here, for the woman before me is none other than the _Countess_ of Vesuvia, Nadia Satrinava.

"Please, you must read the cards for me," Countess Nadia suddenly speaks.

"Well, you've come to the right place!" I muster the courage to speak, lightly tugging on the collar of my shirt, and see the Countess' shoulders relaxing ever so slightly at my words.

"So I'm told. Your reputation precedes you. Beggars and nobles alike... the people of this city whisper your name in wonder."

_Me? Having a reputation? I'm but Asra's apprentice._

"Though, in my dream, you were... different," she says, with a gentle smile. "No matter. I come with a proposal."

_I'm unsure whether to be flattered or shocked by her admission, as I recall a dream of my own. A woman appeared in it. Can't remember who she was, though._

"A dream, you say?" I ask, briefly tapping my fingers against each other.

"Yes, an unwelcome ability I've come to possess," the Countess tells me, her gaze filled with worry, before anger manifests on her face for a moment. "But the future I saw, the one which brought me to you... is one I will not allow to pass."

"I understand. And the proposal you are offering?" I ask, my eyes meeting hers. _Beautiful ruby-red..._

"You are nervous, perhaps? You needn't be. I require very little of you. Come to the Palace, and be my guest for a while. You will be afforded every luxury, of course. I ask only that you bring your skill... and the arcana."

 _The arcana... ah, she means the tarot deck._ Yet I can't help but be anxious at the thought of setting foot in the palace. I'm but a mere apprentice, I cannot simply regard myself as worthy enough of her invitation. My intuition, however, whispers that I should accept it.

"I will inform the guards you are expected tomorrow. But, before that... I would like to see those talents of yours for myself. Shall we do a reading?"

Under her imperious red gaze, I lead her towards the back room, parting the starry curtains with ease, and take my seat as the lamplight shines above the reading table. I start to shuffle the deck with calm movements, and observe Countess Nadia, as she's sitting across from me, gaze darting around.

_I've never met a woman that carries herself like she does, and it would seem she's endowed with a high spirit of observation. Well, let's see what the cards hold for her tonight._

I carefully place three cards upon the reading table, and take a deep breath as I catch a glimpse of the Countess' eyes, settled on the cards, brows risen in expectation. Flipping the top right one, a familiar face gazes back to me, a mysterious smile upon its muzzle. A fox with violet eyes, dressed in long robes, performing a magic ritual.

 _The Magician. The far-distant Seer, the one revealing plans and schemes. Or doing them himself. A trickster and a visionary, all the same._ His magic is reliant tonight, like a pleasant desert wind whipping over my face.

"...The Magician." I say to her, hand resting on the card.

"How very appropriate," Nadia remarks. "And what does the Magician hold in store for me?"

"You have a plan. One that's important to you."

"And? Should I set it in motion?" she asks, eyes piercing me as they flash in the lamplight.

"Yes. Now is the time to act. Everything has fallen into place," I say, conveying the Magician's words.

"Say no more," Nadia commands, and rises abruptly from the reading table.

Giving the card one last glance, she parts the curtains with a swift gesture, striding back into the shop proper. Startled, I quickly gather the cards and follow her back in the shop, standing at a respectful distance from her.

"Your fortunes are much the same as the others I've heard, all quite straightforward. Yet you are the first one to pique my interest," the Countess admits softly, as she's covering her face with the shawl. "Ahem."

I nearly trip in my haste to open the door, and catch an amused smile on her face, underneath the shawl's cover. My cheeks burn with shame, but her words quickly dispel my lack of judgement. "I will see you tomorrow then, at the Palace. Pleasant dreams."

 _I– er. May the same go for you, Countess,_ I think as I stare long after her silhouette, following its shape until it disappears in the night. Shaking my head, I look up to the lantern above me and put it out, unwilling to have more visitors calling in, and close the door with a tired gesture.

Dragging my feet towards the second floor, I mull over her words. _All that talk of my reputation, though, she must've mistaken me for Asra. Yet the dream she mentioned is–_. I have no time to continue my thoughts, for I hear a harsh voice talking, dispelling the silence that began to set in.

"Strange hours for a shop to keep."

"Who goes there?" I ask, my voice gruff and tired, as I begin to chase shadows in the dark.

"Behind you," said the voice.

I whirl to see a man taller than myself, leaning casually in the doorway. A white, raven-shaped mask is covering his face, glassy red eyes peering at me with an unsettling gaze, and catch a glimpse of disheveled auburn hair. A long overcoat seems to cover his slender appearance, making for a rather frightening presence.

He crosses the threshold, and I can hear the surprise in his voice. "So this is the witch's lair. And who might **you** be?"

Instead of answering, I summon magic to my fingertips and launch a projectile at the man's head, but the spell barely grazes his hair. Clenching my fist in anger, I rush to hide behind the counter, searching for something else to defend myself with.

"Aha! En garde, then!" the man exclaims, fists up as he approaches the counter.

 _C'mon, c'mon, there's gotta be something here–yes!_ I smile to myself, hand tight around an empty bottle, and throw it with the last of my strength, ducking back behind the counter. There's a loud crash, and a clatter as I rise from behind the counter, noticing the stranger's mask on the floor, one glassy eye cracked from the impact.

When I look up, the man's face is now revealed to me. His left temple is bleeding profusely, and there's a glimpse of fear in his grey eye as he tends to his wound, brows furrowed in pain. "...You **do** have guts."

With no idea what to answer, I fold my arms and give the man a long, scrutinizing look. I don't sense any ill intent from him, now that I have revealed his identity. _Wait. I've seen him before, but where?_

"The witch taught you his tricks. I've seen them before," the man says, suddenly. " **Where** is he?"

"Master Asra is gone. I don't know where," I answer, irritated.

" **Master** , eh?" the man looks at me, cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry. I won't intrude in your personal affairs."

" **What?** What do you mean by that?" I ask, eyebrow arched in curiosity.

"You... don't know?" the intruder looks at me, eye widened in shock. "Ah, nevermind. You're a fortune teller, right? That's what the room in the back is for, no?"

"...Um, yes." I reply, hesitating for a moment.

"Read my fortune, shopkeep, and I will leave you in peace. It's a promise."

Still somewhat hesitant, I answer. "Fine. Follow me."

With a quick move, I part the starry curtains away, and settle in the chair under the window, while the mysterious man sits on the chair across from me. His limbs seem to go in every direction, and there's apprehension in his eye as he watches my hands moving. Looking closer at his face, I notice an eyepatch covers his right eye. _An accident?_

"Well, come now, shopkeep. Don't be shy," he says, with a tired grin on his face.

"I need your name," I ask, shuffling the cards.

"My name? Whatever for?" the man wonders, stunned by my request.

"It's for the reading," I retort, focused on the cards.

"In that case..." he says, with a sigh. "...Call me Julian."

"Good," I nod, laying down three cards, face down.

 _Let's see what the cards hold for him tonight_ , I think as I pick up the card in the center, and flip it. The figure greeting me is not as jovial as the other ones I've seen tonight, for a skeletal horse head is gazing at me with an unusually large grin, body cloaked in a black veil, and in its bony hand a scythe.

There's a terrifying chill going down my spine, the more I gaze in its eyesockets. _The card of Death._ I cannot fully understand its words, and yet I decide to unravel whatever I can to Julian.

"It's Death..." I say, with a low voice.

"Death? **Death**?" Julian says, with an uncontrollable barking laughter. "Death cast her eyes off this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me."

Julian rises from the reading table, and strides back into the shop. I quickly gather the cards, and rush to catch up with the man, set on clarifying the meaning of his reading. "That's not what Death means–!"

"No, no. My fate is sealed," Julian remarks, with a sad smile. "Well, you've been hospitable enough, shopkeep, so I'll let you in on a secret."

Julian picks up the mask, gazing in its glassy eyes for a long moment before he speaks again. "The witch really taught you his tricks. You might even say he cares for you. But when he returns..."

There's a pause as he gives me a strange look. "Do seek me out, for your sake. Don't let him fool you anymore."

With those words, Julian placed back his mask and walked away, shutting the door loudly behind him. I stare at the door for a long moment, trying to make sense of his warning, but I can't find one right now. Exhaustion finally catches up with me, and I have to drag my feet up the stairs, to eventually crash on the sleeping mat next to the bed.

_I don't know where I am. A vast desert is stretching before my eyes, dunes over dunes of sand, with the occasional palm trees swaying in the distance, landmarks of oasis and water. Cutting through the dunes, there's this endless black, stony path that stretches up to the horizon, seemingly shifting with distorted moves._

_I am on the back of a large beast, whose paws – or hooves? – press upon the stones, and it seems to be walking at a steady pace, judging by the slow shifting of its weight. Beside me, holding the reins tightly, is Master Asra, and I can see his eyes are fixed on the distant horizon. The uncomfortable silence between us is ocassionally interrupted by the beast's snorting, whenever sand reaches its nostrils._

_I try to catch Asra's attention. "Master, where are we?"_

_"Far away from home, I think," Asra replies, casting me a quick glance._

_"Whatever for?" I ask, looking back at the path before us._

_"For answers. And clarity. I will need them both soon," my master answers, with a frown on his lips. "A storm is coming," he adds wistfully._

_I can't help but wonder how long is he going to avoid my questions. No matter how hard I try, I never get a straight answer from him. Or he shuts up instead of answering me._

_"A storm? What do you mean?" I ask, giving him a puzzled look._

_"Soon, there will be a crossroads," Asra says, in a rather cryptic manner._

_"How soon? Where do they lead?"_

_"Depends which one you take," he says, hands reaching out for mine, but he stops just short._

_A sudden chill grips down my spine, as the sand around us is whirled by the wind, blotting out the sky, and all I can hear before the last bit of sand covers the skies is Asra's voice, asking me to rest._

All I feel the sun's soft warmth, and open my eyes to the light that touches my face. Putting a hand to protect my eyes, I let out a groan, my mind still stuck on the dream of last night. _All that talk of storms and paths to take... Asra likes to be cryptic and ominous. This dream is giving me a headache, but I'll deal with it later._

After washing my face well, and searching inside my wardrobe for the best outfit I could wear today, I rest in front of the mirror for a few moments. My short red hair is neatly arranged, and there's an unusual glint in my amber eyes, as they're carefully framed by the round spectacles I wear. A scar traces over my right eye, and I'm unsure whether this is a mark of bravery, or of foolishness. My skin is light tan, unlike the usual fair white of most Vesuvians, which begs the question of my origin.

_Maybe I'm a man of the desert? Asra never told me anything of my past – if he knows about it, anyway._

A white, silken shirt covers my upper body, and over the shirt I have a sleeveless blue tunic, adorned with gold stars and moons. Around my waist, rests my leather belt-satchel, in which I carried most of the herbs and reagents needed for my mixtures, or parchments whenever I had to scribble something.

Elegant blue, durable pants complete my outfit for the day, and my feet are protected by a solid pair of adventurer's boots. _Presentable enough, I hope._

I took the grey traveling cloak resting on the messy bed, dusting it off, and descended to the ground floor, taking a deep breath before I went outside. I could see a few people walking down the street, engaged in their talk, and hear birds chirping from the nearby trees, while a warm breeze caressed my skin. Rejuvenated by this sight, I turn to lock the shop's door twice, and decide to plant a cross-me-not spell as I rest my right hand on the door, muttering the incantation.

_After last night, it's better to be cautious._

Just as I was about to descend on the shop's steps, a large shadow towered over me, projecting itself on the walls as it surpassed my own height. The hairs on the nape of my neck raised in alarm, and a sense of dread washed over me. _Someone is behind me._

I whirl to confront whoever was behind me, and find myself facing this mountain of a man. His cloak covered most of his body, except his muscular chest, covered in many scars of various length and depth. Craning my neck to meet his eyes, I caught a glimpse of green eyes, watching me cautiously from under the cloak.

_A taciturn fellow. And quite the warrior, judging by his scars._

"Excuse me, sir. Can I walk past you?" I ask the man, squaring my shoulders.

The man says nothing, and steps aside to allow me passage, but after a few moments I hear him speak with a distant, yet thunderous voice that freezes me on the spot.

"He will come, uninvited, and will offer you a chance to rest. Turn it down, or you will end up like the rest of us."

 _Cryptic. Is this how everyone intends to speak today?_ I wonder for a moment, hesitant on casting a glance behind me as I hear the sound of shuffling fabric and metal chains dragged away. With a gulp, I look over my shoulder and see nobody there, but I have this feeling someone was behind me just a few moments ago.

Shaking my head, I head towards the mossy steps leading towards the central marketplace, Vesuvia's melting pot. The scents wafting in my nostrils are many: warm bread, sweet honey, various spices, and so much delectable food; all of them seem inviting when the sound of a rumbling stomach reminds one of their hunger.

From one of the booths, I hear the familiar voice of Selasi, Vesuvia's most celebrated baker and a close friend of Asra and I. He's smiling, clearly enjoying the sight of the crowded market, while I'm a little disconcerted about being in the crowds as I prefer the quieter parts of the marketplace.

"Ah, if it isn't my good friend Samir," the baker greets me warmly when I approach his booth. "I have a fresh loaf of pumpkin bread in the oven for you. Sit down for a while, let's catch up until it's ready."

"I'm afraid I must refuse your invitation, my friend," I say with a wave of my hand, ignoring the protests of my stomach. "I must go, I'm expected elsewhere."

"Ah. Very well, safe travels to you, Samir!" Selasi says, ducking back inside his booth.

When I was about to head towards a quieter part of the marketplace, I noticed Julian amidst the crowds, without his raven mask. _Unmasked? And hidden in the crowd? Strange, last night he was so intent in protecting his identity_ , I begin to wonder when I hear a shrill caw, coming from above. A raven is flying in circles over me, and when I look towards Julian, our eyes meet for a moment.

Heart racing, I dart away from that place, and make my way through the booths like a wild phantom as I know the marketplace's secret alleys quite well. I stop running only when I reach a quiet alley, hidden well from the marketplace's crowded spots, and exhale in relief. Walking up, I notice a small fortune teller's booth, tucked away in the shadows, and it makes me remember the times Asra used to operate from a place like this.

_His powers fascinated people, but I'm unsure if he's really the same man I've met. He used to be a good friend, and I don't know what is going on with him._

Caught up in my recollections, I don't realize someone bumped into me until I hear a gasp, and notice a flash of ginger hair, along with a few fruits rolling down the steps. The woman looks a little irritated at the sight before her, and starts to pick a few of the tumbling fruits.

"Great, as if I wasn't already late..."

I immediately drop down to catch all the fruits alongside her, while saving a fruit from being crushed under a stray hoof, as we put them back together in the basket resting at her hip. I see she's wearing a white blouse, decorated with gold patterns, a pair of blue pants, and an orange sash decorated with stars is tied over her waist.

"Ooh, thank you for your help! And after I bumped into you," the woman says, with a jovial voice, as our eyes briefly meet.

"It was nothing," I say with a smile. "I'm glad I could help."

"I shouldn't do this, but..." she says, with a thoughtful look in her eyes. "Here. Take it, as a reward for helping me."

She hands me one of the fruits in her basket, and notice it is, in fact, a pomegranate. I take it with a soft nod, and munch on it with a smile as I'm thanking her between bites. Just when I was about to leave, I notice her examining me with wide eyes, and there's a large smile upon her face when she speaks.

"Wait, but I know you!" the ginger-haired woman exclaims.

"Er–?"

"You're Samir, the Countess' magician, right? I heard we'd be expecting you today."

_We? Wait, is she working for the Countess?_

"I'm Portia, milady's head servant," the woman introduces herself. "How lucky I am to have found you so soon!"

_Ah, her name does ring a bell, I've heard about her through gossip in the marketplace. People have said she's a resourceful person, and that the Countess trusts her a lot. Hm._

"Let me show you a shortcut to the Palace," Portia offers, her voice bringing me back from my thoughts.

"Sure. I should not be late," I say, lapsing back in silence.

Portia leads me up the alley we were in, and then takes a few turns, as we seem to be climbing higher and higher away from the town. On each side of the road, there are fewer and fewer people, and realize not many Vesuvians wonder up these parts. Forest starts to surround us all over the place, and I can hear the birds chirping loudly, even moreso than in town. With a deep breath, there's fresh air invading my nostrils, and I notice Portia's climbing with rapid, tireless steps ahead of me, while I already feel a little exhausted by this long trek.

After a few more minutes, we are in front of a pair of large, intricately designed iron gates. Stretching in front of me, the palace's grounds seem enormous and neverending, and in the distance I see this imposing, fantastic fortress with spiraling towers, birds encircling them in their dizzying flight. Two guards stand before the iron gates, their spears held straight as they notice Portia. She approaches them with a smile, and wastes no time in introducing me to them.

"This man is Samir, magician Asra's apprentice."


	2. A Suspenseful Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...In which the Countess gives Samir a purpose, and the magician chances upon a strange encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has suffered a lot of revisions as well.
> 
> The FFN version will be brought up to speed.
> 
> I try not to get a lot inside Samir's head, but he is there more than he likes. And descriptions still kill me. Some will be longer, some shorter.
> 
> P.S. Also noticed the formatting is wack.
> 
> I'll keep practicing, I hope to improve.
> 
> P.P.S. Update schedule is posted on my profile. And– made some extra revisions of the chapter. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading, on with the story!

"Samir, eh?" one of the guards asked, rising his visor to take a better look at me.  
  
"Yes, I'm Samir al-Amin," I reply upon hearing my name. "And you are...?"  
  
"My name is Ludovico, and my partner here is Bludmila," he says, tilting his head slightly towards the other guard.  
  
"Welcome to the Palace, young magician."  
  
Both guards push the intricate iron gates at once, and I step through, with Portia walking by my side. I take in the view of the palace's vast grounds, basked in the orange-pink glow of the setting sun. In the distance, the palace's imposing, yet fantastical structure stands out against the sky, like a giant, white sentinel watching over Vesuvia's peace. Heart beating to the dozen in anxiety, I recall the Countess' words from last night, as I fiddle with my shirt's collar.  
  
 _"B_ _e my guest for a short while. Y_ _ou'll be afforded every luxury, of course."_  
  
Her words sounded like an invitation into the unknown world of nobility, of which I know very little – _I just hope my humble manners will be sufficient_ – and yet one thing struck me as odd, ever since that night. Nobles often look on magicians with disdain, and yet the Countess was quick to extend her generosity.  
  
 _Quite peculiar._  
  
I didn't even realize I was standing still, when I hear Portia's voice asking me to hurry up, and there's a sharp tug on my right sleeve. Looking around, we're in the middle of a large stone bridge, with beautiful lamps at each end, and there's the sound of a river, quietly flowing underneath.  
  
Leaning over the bridge's railing for a moment, I notice a pair of eels, looking quite pale, swimming rather listlessly. I purse my lips, upon realizing they must be sick. _They don't seem to be faring that well..._  
  
Portia gives me a tired smile, as she tugs on my sleeve once more. Not wishing to waste any more time, I follow her with calculated strides, still quite anxious at the thought of seeing Countess Nadia again. _A plan. The Magician spoke of a plan._  
  
 _I must heed the voice of my intuition, it speaks of answers._  
  
We are now standing in front of two large, white doors, easily thrice my height, and Portia knocks upon them three times, brows furrowed as if she's quite focused on something. On the third knock, the large doors part open to reveal a hallway made out of polished, clear cut stone, stretching endlessly as marble columns frame it from both sides. On the walls hang banners of various colors, all decorated with various heraldry, as well as several portraits of aristocrats unknown to me.  
  
Above us, brilliant light shines from the ornate chandeliers, and I can feel my anxiety return, the more I look around. Next to me, Portia huffs her chest with pride, and nods to herself for a moment. She then smiles at me, going forward as she makes a gesture for me to follow.  
  
 _Where is she leading me to?_  
  
As we walk down the corridor, I notice a man approaching us, hands wringing with anxiety as his eyes dart back and forth, from me to Portia. With a deep, respectful bow towards me, he takes off his feathered cap, and I notice his fingers are lightly drumming upon its edges when he joins at Portia's side.  
  
"Chamberlain. How are we with the timing?" Portia asks, with a hand on her hip, protecting the basket of pomegranates.  
  
"Impeccable timing!" exclaims the man, with a relieved smile. "The first course is ready to be served, and Her Ladyship has yet to descend."  
  
"Take these," the ginger-haired woman says, with a serious look, handing over the basket. "And tell the kitchen our guest has arrived."  
  
Portia then turns to me, with a smile. "Come, I'll lead you to the dining room. Her Ladyship will be there soon."  
  
I freeze on the spot, heart thumping loudly in my ears. _Me, d_ _ining with the Countess? I– That's–_  
  
Portia's laugh rings in the hallway, and I shake my head just in time to hear her words, "You didn't seriously think we wouldn't _feed_ you, right?"  
  
Soon enough, we arrive in front of two large doors, made out of mahogany, and Portia opens them with a smile. When I step inside, the dining room looks quite spacious, and my eyes wander to notice a large table, with a lavish feast upon it, and two large windows giving out to a view of the grounds below, moonlight glowing over them.  
  
Various pleasant scents waft in my nostrils from the table, and my stomach begins to rumble in protest, as the hunger returns tenfold. Portia pulls out a chair from the table, and invites me to sit, while another servant quickly pours me a glass of water.  
  
Settling in the plush chair, and after a bit of water, I take a better look around the room while waiting for the Countess' arrival. My eyes land on a large painting that hangs on the wall to my right, as it seems to depict a lavish feast, just as bountiful as this one – at that, my stomach protests once more – and notice that all the figures around the table are animal-like.  
  
 _There's a wolf, a dove, a bull, a skeletal horse... and in the center, with rays of gold behind his head, sits this goat-like figure with shiny red eyes, dressed in what looks like the ceremonial Vesuvian military uniform, with many medals decorating the white fabric. What a strange painting..._  
  
"Welcome, Samir," the Countess' silken voice rouses me from my thoughts.  
  
"Countess," I say, rising from my chair as if on instinct, heart thumping.  
  
Countess Nadia takes her seat at the other end of the table, and our eyes meet for a moment. I can't help but notice a placid smile upon her lips, when she speaks.  
  
"You were admiring the painting. Do you like it?"  
  
"I'm afraid not, Countess," I say, retaking my seat, while a servant places a dish of cucumber soup before me. "It does not invite questions, or reflections about its meaning."  
  
"How honest!" Countess Nadia remarks, laughing. "I must confess I do not like it either."  
  
I take a cautious spoonful of the soup before me, listening to her voice. "So why does it remain on the wall, you may ask? Sentimental value, I suppose. It was one of my husband's favorites."  
  
 _Her husband?... Ah, the late Count Lucio,_ I think, looking back to the painting, and it feels like the goat figure is somewhat familiar to me. As I keep looking at the figure, I have this bizarre impression that its red eyes are vivid, as if they're returning my gaze.  
  
"Beautiful red..." I say out loud, not even realizing it.  
  
"Ah, yes. It is a beautiful red," I hear the Countess replying, and I shake my head, confused.  
  
When I look back at her, there's some amusement dancing in her ruby-red eyes, as she informs me the goat is supposed to depict the late Count, providing for the people. But it's clear, judging by the way she closes her eyes whenever she speaks of him, that the Countess doesn't enjoy this particular topic of conversation.  
  
 _Is she alright?_  
  
A servant is quick to replace the empty bowl in front of me, and before me stands a dish of flaky golden savories. But my interest in food is slowly replaced by the interest in her words, and her presence.  
  
"I know how fondly the people of this city remember the Count's Masquerade. Did you ever attend the Masquerade, Samir? Our annual revelry in honor of my husband's birthday... a delight to all Vesuvia."  
  
I lapse into silence, brows furrowed in thought while reclining in the chair. _I don't remember such an event happening, or if I have memories of such an event, I cannot recall them at all. I cannot speak to her about this._  
  
"All of it is now a memory tinged with bitterness..." I hear the Countess' soft voice, as it brings me back from my thoughts, and part my lips to speak.  
  
I stop, upon hearing her voice laced thick with anger, and noticing her right fist clenched tight. "...After Count Lucio was murdered at the last Masquerade."  
  
 _I feel as if I'm in a chokehold, I can't breathe. Gotta hold out, tune it out somehow– just think, focus!_  
  
"Such a terrible shock to the guests. Such a vicious injustice upon this house. To slaughter the host while he celebrates, sharing his joy and prosperity with open doors?"  
  
All of her anger makes it hard for me to focus, as I can't even look at my food, and resort to looking back at the painting, as I try to recall what I know about the murder. Going over the stories spread by harmless neighborhood gossip – so, not proper facts, unfortunately – people's opinions about the Count were divided, and even more about what happened that night.  
  
 _There are many holes in this story, and I won't even go over the wild rumors people spread around, but one thing is clear: there are a lot of unanswered questions. The end of this sad tale is, however, always the same: the Count retired to his chambers, and by midnight, he and his chamber were engulfed in flames._  
  
 _As for the culprit, he was captured on the spot, but before he could be brought to justice, he escaped. I often turned this case around in my mind, scribbling various notes down, so much that Asra joked I could try being a detective._  
  
Looking away from the painting, I meet the Countess' keen gaze, finding myself drawn to her eyes. When she speaks, there's this strange note of confidence in her voice.  
  
"But now that you're here..."  
  
 _It's not just in her voice, but exuding from her very emotions, as if my presence is important to her. That plan. Why am I here?_  
  
"Countess, if I may... what does _any of this_ have to do with me?" I ask, holding the empty glass of water, and a servant quickly refills it.  
  
"Samir, the Masquerade is _precisely_ why I called you here," she retorts, with a confident gaze. "This year, I intend to hold the Masquerade once more."  
  
I try not to sputter in the glass, and set it back on the table, hand trembling as I stare at her in shock. Behind me, there's a collective gasp, and glance over my shoulder to notice the servants' mouths agape, equally shocked by the Countess' declaration.  
  
"The festivities in Lucio's honor will be more fantastical than ever," Countess Nadia says, "but there is one loose end in need of tying."  
  
There's a long pause before she speaks one more, her anger flaring up, and this time I recline in the chair, closing my eyes as I listen to her voice. It seems effective in tuning out these intense emotions, at least.  
  
"Count Lucio's murderer still roams free, to this day. Doctor Julian Devorak, my husband's former physician."  
  
 _Julian– wait. I remember the name written on those wanted posters littered all over Vesuvia. Now that I know his face, it's quite clear who broke into my shop last night. Never would've taken him for a doctor. An adventurer or an actor, perhaps, but not a doctor._  
  
"Doctor Devorak confessed to the crime when we caught him. All that is left is his sentence: execution by hanging," the Countess solemnly declares.  
  
I hear the sudden crash of a platter, and when I look towards the door, Portia's face is stricken with horror. At her feet, the remnants of tonight's dessert, a mingle of what looks like chocolate and vanilla, are seeping into the floor while the platter rests in broken pieces.  
  
"Portia?" I hear the Countess speaking to her.  
  
"F-forgive me, milady. Slippery hands," Portia excuses herself, trying to hide her shock.  
  
"You are forgiven," Countess Nadia retorts, her voice sounding somewhat tired.  
  
Two servants rush to Portia's aid, as they're sweeping away the shattered mess resting at her feet, with windsprint speed as sweat beads on their foreheads. When I turn back towards the Countess, there's a studious look in her eyes when she speaks, elegant fingers curled around the stem of a glass filled with white wine.  
  
"This is where you come in, Samir. Doctor Devorak has been very elusive. But you have quite the reputation. Rumor has it that you surpassed even your Master Asra."  
  
 _I–what? Me, surpassing Asra? I fear she's quite mistaken about the extent of my abilities. I only possess quick wits, a strong empathetic ability that grants me some heightened senses, and a guiding intuition, nothing more, nothing less._  
  
 _What I don't possess is normal sight. I cannot see in the distance without my glasses, been like this ever since I know myself. I have no idea how I got the scar tracing over my right eye._  
  
"I myself see the future, in dreams, whether I like it or not," Countess Nadia admits, softly. "And this is how I know that you are the one who will find Doctor Devorak..." she adds, gently sipping from her glass of wine.  
  
 _"But the future I saw, the one which brought me to you... is a future I will not allow to pass!" At first, I thought she was just being ominous, for dreams carry so many meanings within the magical arts, and now hearing that she truly has the gift of precognition... it would explain, in part, why I was able to_ _sense her unusual spirit of observation._  
  
"And, _if_ we find him, Countess?" I ask, slightly pushing up my glasses.  
  
Countess Nadia sets down her glass, a decisive look in her eyes. " _When_ we find him, we'll bring him before the people, so that all may see his long-awaited punishment. And so, to commence the festivities... the doctor will die on the gallows for his heinous crime."  
  
 _Well, I suppose I'm now an... official investigator? Hah, never thought I'd be doing real detective work._  
  
The Countess rises from her chair. On instinct, I rise as well, arms down my body.  
  
"Portia," Countess Nadia addresses the head servant, that seems absentminded, so much that she has to repeat her name. "...Portia."  
  
"Yes, milady!" Portia answers, her shoulders jolting in panic, eyes wide as she looks at the Countess.  
  
"Show Samir to the guest quarters. I imagine there is much to ponder before the night is out," Countess Nadia says, with the same decisive look in her eyes.  
  
"Right away, milady," Portia replies, as she makes a humble bow, whisking me to the doorway.  
  
Portia is quiet as she ushers me down the hall towards my room, while I'm thinking over the Countess' task. After a few turns, we pass a wide staircase that seems veiled in shadow, a draft rushing from the floor above as it makes my skin prickle, a strange sensation of cold washing over me.  
  
 _Is it just me... or there's a scent of ash in the air?_  
  
Looking around, ignoring the chill down my spine, I notice two white, large lanky dogs curled on the bottom step. Their eyes fix me for a moment, and then rise slowly, without a sound, approaching me like they could strike at any moment.  
  
 _Strange, I sense no ill-intent from them. It couldn't hurt to confirm that, though._  
  
I hold out my hand, and they draw closer to sniff it, warm huffing breaths tickling my skin as I notice their tails wagging.  
  
"Well, this is quite bizarre," Portia remarks, her voice laced with surprise. "They never take kindly to strangers. It's just how they were trained, but... I've never seen them act like this."  
  
The dogs keep sniffing me, slim snouts brushing against my sides as if making sure they got my scent. Having satisfied their curiosity, they draw back and look at me expectantly.  
  
 _I don't really like the look in their eyes. They seem friendly, but there's this feeling I can't shake off or place,_ I think, taking a step back from them and folding my arms, while the dogs return to their spot, white fur almost blending into the polished marble as their unsettling gaze is fixed on me.  
  
 _A vivid red._  
  
"Oh! No wonder they're like this, they haven't had their chamomile cakes!" Portia exclaims, bumping her right fist against her left palm, before her eyes dart nervously between the dogs and myself.  
  
She places her hand upon my right arm. "Wait here, Samir. And it's probably best to keep your distance from them. I'll be right back with those cakes."  
  
"I wasn't planning on petting them," I say, nervously tapping my fingers against each other. "Thank you for warning me, Portia."  
  
The head servant disappears through a sliding panel, well hidden in the wall, and I'm left alone in the hallway with the two dogs. The larger one of the pair seems to be sniffing me insistently on one side, but when I look down, it pulls back and stares at me. The smaller one starts to sniff my other side, like it wants to investigate my scent, and I whirl around to notice it resting on its haunches, an innocent look in its eyes.  
  
 _These dogs are strange, alright._  
  
When I look into its one sanguine eye, there's this sensation of a fever rippling through my body in waves, heat radiating under my skin, while sweat beads upon my forehead in small droplets. As I'm trying to endure the heat under my skin, a rather nazal, masculine voice startles me.

"A guest?"  
  
I look up and down the corridor, narrowing my gaze, and realize the voice must've come from the top of the stairs. Looking up, there's nobody as far as I can see in the darkness, no matter how much I strain to peer through it. I'm startled by a sudden yanking at my garments, and notice the dogs try to drag me up the stairs, their teeth buried in my clothes.  
  
"Hey!" I shout at the dogs, as they yank harder on my clothes, trying to lead me upstairs.  
  
In here, the walls and the floor are all made of frigid stone, and there's this intoxicating scent of ash that makes me nauseous, head slightly spinning. My heart is pounding, and I try to summon a small orb of light in my palm, slightly dispelling the darkness surrounding me as I notice the dogs are no longer here. _I_ _t seems they disappeared after dragging me up here. I don't like this place one bit._  
  
Ahead, a door looks partway open, and it seems to be darker inside than in this abandoned hallway, for my light cannot cast it away. I bite my lip in fear and go towards it, crossing the threshold as the light in my palm seems reduced to dim, white rays. The air in here is so thick I can taste it, feeling like pepper in my mouth. _I'm going to be sick._  
  
Putting a hand over my forehead, I shine the small light in my palm around and see this large, canopied bed that stretches midway across the room, making for a rather imposing resting spot. Walking carefully, I notice this extravagant suit of armor, covered in ash as it's resting in one corner of the room, and a writing desk made out of marble underneath the window. Upon closer inspection, a white peacock feather pen is housed in a bottle of ink, the same powdery ash covering them.  
  
Looking up the wall, I can see a portrait hanging, twice my height. Carefully framed in gold, it depicts a man standing proud, looking somewhere in the horizon as his gold mechanical arm rests against a sword embedded in a horse's skull. A large fur cape covers his shoulders, its edges held together by a big lion medallion over his neck, and he's wearing a red military uniform, the color resembling the vivid eyes of the goat painting in the dining room.  
  
 _So, this is how Count Lucio really looked like. Blonde hair, eyes defined by black lines, his body somewhat muscular – a clear sign he must've underwent some physical training – and yet the Count appears quite young in this painting. Perhaps the artist cared to satisfy the man's vanity, or the portrait is really old. Hm, but that mechanical arm is interesting... it seems crafted by alchemists. No ordinary blacksmith could produce such a thing._  
  
"Go on. Touch it," I hear that voice speaking, with the same nazal tone from before.  
  
A miasma of thick, scorching air seems to push my hand towards the portrait, and feel only ash and canvas on my skin. I hear something, or someone, snickering inside my head as I start to feel hazy, unable to discern how long it's been since I've entered this room.  
  
"Nothing like the real thing... seeing, unable to feel. Such sweet torture..." the voice says once more, when I feel warmth like an ember radiating at the back of my neck.  
  
A sudden jolt breaks through the haze, as the magic in my palm reacts to the warmth I've felt before, my fingers and wrist glowing for a moment. The more I hear this voice speaking to me, I can't be sure if I'm imagining it, or there's something else I'm unaware of.  
  
"Ahhh... there, in your energy... oh, it's him," the voice speaks with a wistful tone. "Could you be...?"  
  
I clench my right fist, slowly regaining my bearings, and reel back from the portrait with brows furrowed, only to feel something soft against the back of my knees. Letting out a yelp, I fall through folds of dusty velvet into the massive bed, plumes of ash billowing in the air from impact.  
  
 _Wait a moment... this is Count Lucio's room. So this is the bed in which he was murdered. Burned to death, to be precise. Then this ash all over me is–!_  
  
I clap a hand over my mouth, smothering down the scream about to escape my lungs. Shaking in horror, I rise from the bed, eyes darting around the room as I stride towards the exit, when I hear the nazal, masculine voice ringing once more in the air.  
  
"Going so soon? You're no fun."  
  
"What do you want?" I snarl, trying to ignore the chill running down my spine as I look around the room.  
  
High pitched laughter breaks through the eerie silence that began to set in the room, and I feel a strange wave of heat sweeping past my ears, as if it's somehow gathering behind me.  
  
"What do I WANT?" the voice snarls, and there's this uneasy sensation prickling my skin, like there's something reaching for my back.  
  
 _Drat. Drat, drat, this can't be good at all,_ I think while hearing my heart pounding like war drums, fearing for my life, when the strange sensation subsides, replaced by a sudden cold enveloping the room. My frightened breaths turn into fine mist, and my whole body shivers – unsure if it's from fear, or the hellish cold in here, or both – as I try to hold myself together.  
  
All of my senses are so heightened, I can almost swear I catch the sounds of faint movement in the room, headed towards the portrait while hearing that voice speaking once more, a hint of frustration and resignation in its tone.  
  
"Chains of gold, but no neck... beautiful, beautiful furs, but no back... No perfect face to smother with kisses... so I want nothing."  
  
With that, the room is once again eerily silent, and there's no more cold. Dazed, I walk once more towards the door, trying not to faint in this abandoned hallway. _I'm not sure just how much longer I can resist before fainting, all this adrenaline exhausts me so much._  
  
Gathering my last ounce of courage, I step out in the empty hallway, pushing the door wide open as I start to run past the gallery of aristocratic portraits hanging on the wall to my left. There's this uneasy feeling washing over me, like their cold, aristocratic stares are observing my running figure.  
  
Just as I was about to approach the top of the stairs, the voice I've heard before calls out, asking me to come back. Against my better judgement, and ignoring the dread that washes over me in waves, I whirl towards the other end of this dark, endless corridor just in time to spot it.  
  
A silhouette stands stark against a wall of high windows that seem frosted with smoke, and at first glance I can see its claws, horns and hooves, all shining like onyx. _Ne_ _ver seen such a spirit before, in the shape of a goat. Curious._  
  
Its red eyes fixes on me, and there's this unsettling smile on its face for a moment, but when I blink, it's gone. Turning to face the stairs stretching under my feet, I hear clambering from somewhere to the side, along with a door creaking behind me. _En_ _ough adventures for the day.._ _._  
  
Heart thumping like it threatens to leave my ribcage, I start descending the frightful stairs two at a time, and there's this lingering unease in my soul, the more I go towards the dim lights below. After what felt like a long, unending descent, I finally reach the illuminated hallway leading to the guest quarters, and notice Portia's busy searching around every corner of the hallway, muttering under her breath.  
  
When she spins around, facing the staircase, her eyes widen in shock upon noticing my disastrous appearance. "There you are! Wait... why _are_ you covered in ash? What did those naughty dogs do?"  
  
She hands me a plain white handkerchief, and I quickly take it, dusting off the ash over me with rapid movements while muttering my thanks to Portia. I still can't understand what happened up there, all those whispers, and shadows... _the goat_.  
  
"You know, I'm just gonna leave these cakes here. Let's get you to bed."  
  
I nod, tired and confused, as I follow Portia until we arrive at our destination. A sturdy mahogany door stands before me, and she opens it with a sweeping gesture, inviting me inside as I take note of how practical this room seems to be.  
  
 _A cozy sofa, a medium sized table, a mirror hanging upon the wall... windows that give out to a tower and a glimpse of the grounds below. It's not much, but it feels welcoming and comfortable._  
  
"These will be your quarters, Samir. You can put your things wherever you like. Breakfast is at sunrise... I'll wake you."  
  
I stifle a yawn as I let the leather belt-satchel drop to the floor, next to the bed. Exhaustion feels like a weight hanging over my neck and back, and I can't wait to rest after today. _I need to cast a few enchantments before I even go to sleep, thankfully I have a handful of heliotrope and angelica with me. I'd rather not be disturbed by goats._  
  
"You look ready to drop. I'll leave you be. Sleep well, Samir."  
  
"Thank you," I manage to say, between yawns.  
  
After Portia left, I disrobe of my ash-filled clothes and pull over a comfy blue nightrobe, found in the wardrobe. Then, with tired moves, I begin to cast the enchantments around the room – _I've done them ever since I started having nightmares, Asra doesn't even know about them_ – and let out a yawn as I begin to burrow into the luxurious silken sheets, lulled to sleep by the sound of Portia's distant footfalls.  
  
 _I'm back here? This black path... it's windy, and the sand seems rust-colored, while the clouds above look heavy and thick as if rain could pour down in any minute. If I'm here... where's Asra?_  
  
 _The furious wind burns my eyes as I search through this desolate landscape, so much that not even my glasses could protect me from this pain. Furrowing my brows to focus, I spot Asra in the distance as he's riding his lumbering beast, yet still quite far from where I am._  
  
 _When I get closer, I notice he stopped at a fork in the path. I can't see the look on his face, only that he's just dismounted, and gives the two roads before him a momentary glance. One leads east, and the other leads west; he gently pats the beast and lets it go down the eastern path, while he takes the west path on foot._  
  
 _Why is he going that way? "Master Asra!"_  
  
 _I can feel his eyes meeting mine, even from this distance. "Samir...?" he wonders, his voice like a whisper in the wind._  
  
 _Even from this distance, I get the impression he doesn't care about the path he follows, and I have no reason to interfere. I watch him going west, slowly fading from view as sand starts to blur my vision and fill my nostrils, wind blowing with an unusual intensity._  
  
 _I don't remember anything else._


	3. The Investigation Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...in which Samir is starstruck twice by the Countess, and finds new clues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is more than welcome, as usual, _and formatting seems better, but descriptions still kill me._
> 
> On with the story!

_Sunlight._

  
Its warm light caresses my face, making it harder to see anything. I put a hand over my eyes to block the light, and let out a groan as I can feel a headache coming. Portia walks in the room with a silver tray, and the scent of freshly baked pastries, served with jasmine tea is enough to make me forget everything else. I sit up, still somewhat groggy, while she sets the tray on the table resting under the window.  
  
"Morning, Samir!" Portia greets me with joy as she parts open the curtains, letting more light in.  
  
"Morning," I reply with a mellow voice.  
  
"What a lovely sunrise," she remarks, looking out the window for a moment, before her gaze sets back on me. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
I nod, stifling a yawn as I go towards the table, picking the water pitcher resting near one of its feet, and begin to wash my face in the basin placed on a smaller table, under the mirror.  
  
"The Countess wants you to meet her in the library, once you've eaten and dressed," Portia informs me, as I catch her reflection in the mirror for a moment.  
  
_Dressed?_ I panic, seeing that no clothes are resting on the chair next to the table. _But, where are my clothes?_ Portia's reflection moves away, and I follow to see her placing a set of clothes on the bed, a lot more elegant than what I usually wear.  
  
"We took your old clothes to be laundered. Milady asked me to provide these for you," she says, gesturing to the clothes.  
  
_Er–but? How does the Countess know– nevermind, I'm just glad I won't have to worry about finding ash in my pockets. Or on my clothes in general._  
  
"I'll be waiting in the hall, whenever you're ready," Portia says, closing the door behind her.  
  
I begin to eat a few of the pastries on the tray, and drink the jasmine tea with slow gulps, while looking at the set of clothes in curiosity. _I take it they're made of silk, fine quality at that, and more expensive than anything I would be able to afford._  
  
I unravel the top piece, a beautiful blue silken tunic with gold embroidery along the neck and wrists, silken pants, a golden sash... I don't really want to leave my belt-satchel here. _Ah, but of course! I have hidden a long strap in one of the pockets... just in case I needed to carry the satchel differently. And over my chest it goes._  
  
After changing in the outfit provided, and making sure my satchel is secure, I exit my quarters to notice Portia in discussion with the Chamberlain, a few steps ahead of me. I go down the hallway to join her, and she's just dismissed the Chamberlain when she notices me, a beaming smile on her face.  
  
"Ooh, don't you look nice! The Countess has a real eye for fashion. She'll definitely be pleased."  
  
_I did catch a glimpse of the prince I have turned into... I'm still in shock over how well it fits me,_ I think while Portia leads me down the hallway, and idly wonder about the case I'm going to work on. _A dead Count, a fugitive doctor... and a lot of wild rumors._  
  
We stop in front of a panel, easily twice my height, crafted of smooth wood in all colors of rippling honey. When I touch it, it feels cool and pleasant under my fingertips, and there's a scent wafting in the air from it.  
  
_The scent of wood feels... soothing._  
  
Taking a better look at the panel's design, I notice that it depicts a tree in the height of maturity, with details so intricate that I'm staring at it in awe. Its leaves and fruit are all inlaid with precious stones, from emeralds to mother of pearl, and I brush over the stones within my reach.  
  
_Who designed this? It's... magnificent._  
  
As if somehow reading my mind – or perhaps she noticed my stunned expression – Portia speaks with fondness in her voice, while looking for something in her pockets.  
  
"It's milady's own work. Beautiful, isn't it?"  
  
I give her a shocked look, then turn my gaze back on the intricate design. _Incredible, this must've taken days, perhaps months! An exceptional woman, by all means._ A subtle jingle of keys interrupts my thoughts, and look back at Portia, as she's holding a ring of keys that look exactly like the panel – carved from wood, and inlaid with jewels – when I realize the locks must be hidden under their respective stone.  
  
_A puzzle. Ingenious,_ I think as I observe Portia finding keyholes and turning keys, while the roots of the tree begin to unwind, with each key turned. After a few more minutes, the doors open like a paper fan, folding themselves on either side.  
  
When I step in, I have to contain my excitement at the sight of so many bookshelves. They're spread all over the place, and I can't tell how many books must be in here. I have to resist the desire to trace my fingers upon the nearest books, as this isn't my personal bookshelf in the shop. Next to me, Portia seems focused, as she's playing with the ring of keys in her hand. My eyes land on the Countess, resting in a reclining chair as she looks out the window, lost in thought.  
  
When we approach, her gaze lands on me, gleaming with approval as she gives me a soft, serene smile. "Samir. You look positively radiant."  
  
I gulp, and feel my cheeks burn at her compliment, as I do a quick bow to hide my flustering. "Countess, your words flatter this humble magician."  
  
_Gods above, but she's beautiful in this dress, and that smile–now is not the time to be starstruck, Samir!_  
  
Countess Nadia gestures to the towering shelves around us, asking me if I read. I nod, knowing that she mustn't have noticed my excitement before, but I can sense her trying to temper down her surprise.  
  
"Ah. Somehow, I suspected that you might. It is a great gift, to read. Where I come from, it is shared amongst all citizens, but woefully uncommon here."  
  
I want to say something, when the Countess rises from the reclining chair and walks past me, leaving a pleasant scent behind her. Portia's quick to join her side, while I follow them at a slower pace, staring at the many books we pass by. I catch the name of a few titles: "Animal Tracking", Amulius's "Advanced Herbalism", "A History of Vesuvia"...  
  
_I could spend hours in here, if–_  
  
I catch the Countess looking over her shoulder for a moment, and our eyes meet. Flustered, I look back to the books around us when she speaks, with her usual, silky voice.  
  
"Samir... you _are_ my guest. If you should like to return here, you need only ask."  
  
I fidget with my collar, unsure of how to answer. "Countess, I– Thank you."  
  
Giving me a warm smile, she stops in front of an alcove, well hidden between the shelves. "But, for the moment... I will have your undivided attention here."  
  
In front of me is a desk, illuminated by the dim rays coming from a small window above. Its surface is full of books, scrolls and other papers, all of them giving the impression of clutter – but it's all quite organized, somehow. _Someone clearly did a lot of studying, judging by how everything seems placed. But who was studying here, and what?_  
  
"This was Doctor Devorak's desk," Countess Nadia says, and my brows are knitting in thought. "He was employed at the Palace, as was your Master, Asra."  
  
At the mention of Asra, I scoff and shake my head, while pacing back and forth in front of the desk. _He's never said a word about the Palace, and now I learn he worked here. Him, working for the Countess?! I want to laugh._  
  
Countess Nadia looks at me, eyebrow arched in curiosity, and I feel my cheeks burn with shame. "I apologize, Countess. What were they doing here?"  
  
"We called upon them to concoct a cure for the plague," she explains.  
  
The Red Plague, as it was called, swept over Vesuvia like wildfire. Those days were dark, as the disease claimed many lives in its wake – young, old, frail, strong – and there was no telling who would succumb to it. Cases are rare now, as I can't remember the last time I saw the telltale red in the white of someone's eyes.  
  
"Physicians, scientists, alchemists, fortune tellers, magicians, all were invited... in hopes that our resources may aid in their research," the Countess says, eyes sweeping over the alcove.  
  
"Perhaps he was plotting even then... but the doctor accepted our invitation. As did your Master, Asra."  
  
I push my glasses up, and take a deep breath. I can't imagine Asra leaning over tomes and casting magic, in an attempt to discover a cure. Maybe, once upon a time, that might've been true – _he did train me well, until he stopped one day_ – but now I just feel angry.  
  
I notice Countess Nadia's gaze is now fixed on the small window, and I follow it to see a large willow tree, branches hanging over a fountain. She speaks again, with a hint of frustration in her voice this time, and find myself pushing aside the anger welling in me over Asra's lies.  
  
"I have had the desk and its contents examined laboriously. Nothing of consequence has been found," Countess Nadia says, turning her gaze to me. "But perhaps you will make better use of it. It is the best lead I can offer."  
  
"I shall make the most of it," I say, with determination in my voice, giving her a sharp nod. "I won't let you down, Countess."  
  
Countess Nadia draws away, as she passes me and perfuming the air with jasmine, and I begin to recall that first night we met. _Now that I think on it, there was a scent in the air, long after she left... but then again, I was quite tired that night to properly register it._ _Jasmine. I remember the flower, but I'm not sure why I do._  
  
"The search for Doctor Devorak is now in your hands. You may proceed as you see fit, "she says, when her lips curve in that serene smile from before. "I ask only that you meet me for dinner this evening."  
  
With that, she sweeps out of the room as Portia follows in her wake. I find myself staring long after her silhouette, the scent of jasmine lingering in the air as I process her invitation.  
  
_Dinner? Tonight? I–Gods, that smile–focus, Samir, there's no time to be starstruck! And for the second time, too!_  
  
Taking a deep breath, as if to engrave the scent in my memory, I cast a look once more towards the other end of the library. Shaking my head with a smile, I focus my attention on the desk before me and sit in the large chair, noticing that even the drawers are full of scrolls and papers.  
  
_If he was here to find a cure... most books look like they've been read at least a dozen times. The other papers look illegible, just as the scrolls– hold on, this one looks different._  
  
I unfurl the scroll, just as full of illegible scrawls – except for a large J underneath – and trace my fingers over the fine, powdery paper that must've been high quality once. My magic reacts upon the touch, and I can feel the emotions of the doctor for a moment: longing, sadness, and a lot of regret. _Hm. Perhaps in this light..._ I think, focusing on the emotions, until I can notice two words, seemingly legible than the rest of this scroll: "dear" and "sister".

Knitting my brows, I wonder if this sister of his is harboring him... it will be hard to–no. _Wait. I can feel the emotions, that means I can track him down._ _Well, provided I can cast the spell right._ Rolling back the scroll, I place it with great care in my satchel, and head towards the library's exit.

I get the uncanny sensation that jasmine is still in the air – or just imagining it – and make my way outside the palace, glancing at the sky. _Still noon, the sun isn't going to set for a while... I have to return in time for dinner._  
  
Outside the palace, I take a deep breath, thinking about the task ahead, hands shaking slightly as I reach out in my satchel for the scroll. Asra often assisted me when I practiced the spell, but now... this is my first time casting it – in the back of my mind, I can hear his voice, instructing me.  
  
_Start with your breathing. Focus on your heart, and be present. Right, I've got this!_  
  
With my eyes still closed, there's this feeling that wells inside my soul, as if a spiritual guide is leading my steps. When I open my eyes, there's nothing else but the certainty of following this guide – as long as it leads me to the elusive Doctor.  
  
I can only catch glimpses of the places that the spell guides me through – taverns, homes, markets – as I wander through the streets and canals of Vesuvia, the spell's energy getting stronger upon reaching the southernmost part of the city.  
  
_South End. City guards call it the district of criminals, but to all of Vesuvia, it's known as the district of the poor._  
  
The scent of murky water, coming from the canals, is enough to make my stomach turn in disgust. The more I look around, I see that people live in clustered spaces, inside buildings that have resisted through worse. Apartments, I think they're called.  
  
The street was deserted, save for a few silhouettes wandering in the distance, and there was no other noise except for the murky water, bobbing against the canal's shores. Looking up, the sky was now a beautiful orange, meaning the sun was going to set soon.  
  
_It's beautiful and all, but where is the doctor? The spell brought me here, so he must be in one of these buildings–_  
  
There's no time for me to finish my thought, as I notice a door opening wide, light illuminating the stone pavement, and a cacophony of noises comes from that side: there's singing, talking, laughter. A man comes out, and he seems to be speaking with someone inside.  
  
"Don't worry about me, I'm just going out for a bit of fresh air."  
  
_But, it's Doctor Devorak! My spell worked, and what now? Perhaps I should've planned this a little better–drat!_  
  
I'm now staring at the orange-pink sky, limbs flailing in the air. Footsteps approach, and I see the doctor's face above me, grey eye widening in surprise, as he helps me out of the barrel I've fallen into. He must've pulled with more strength than needed, as my face lands for a moment against the doctor's exposed chest.  
  
Shaking my head, I rise to full height, and fold my arms as I give him the once-over, mirroring his position. He appears to be relaxed, but it's clear my presence here is unwanted.  
  
"Dare I ask what brings you to this neck of woods, shopkeep?" he asks, with a frown.  
  
I part my lips to speak. "I–"  
  
"Rumor has it you're working for the palace," Julian says, flashing his signature grin at me, "and perhaps you've already heard a few interesting stories about me."  
  
I nod, unsure what to answer. _Actually,_ I think, _he would've found out about the investigation anyway. After all, everyone in Vesuvia knows who murdered the Count._  
  
"Well now, you haven't heard my side of the story, have you?" Julian says, with a smile. "I've been meaning to repay you for your reading last night. Are you thirsty? My treat."  
  
"No, I'm not thirsty," I say, with a wave of my hand.  
  
"Not thirsty? I can't imagine how that feels," he answers with a hearty laugh, leading me towards the building he just got out of. "After you."  
  
_He's flustered, for some odd reason._  
  
I take to the steps, and glance at the sign moving with the wind, shaped like a bronze shield, with a blackbird cawing, and a crescent moon behind it. Underneath the painting, in neatly painted cursive, the text read: "The Rowdy Raven."  
  
_Ah. A tavern. Not that I frequent them often._  
  
Inside, the cacophony of sounds I've heard before seems louder, and for a moment I cannot bear all the noise. There are men singing various shanties, people talking around and clinking their steins of beer, laughing a lot. A group of people is gathered around a table, where two crones are playing cards, and it seems their game stirred quite the interest. Behind the bar, a large man, with a scar on his left cheek, bald and with a trimmed beard, gives the doctor a friendly grin.  
  
Julian escorts me to a quieter spot in the tavern, and asks me to take a seat until he returns. _It's strange, if I'm honest, that he seems to be in his element in here. I really doubt nobody knows who he is._ I'm brought back from my thoughts when Julian puts a large glass of water in front of me, and a large stein of beer for himself. Taking the seat across from me, he interlocks his fingers and gives me a curious look, as if he's carefully pondering his next words.  
  
"You know," he says, after a gulp of beer, "I never got your name."  
  
I take a sip of water. "I'm Samir. Samir al-Amin."  
  
"Samir. Quite a powerful name, rolls off the tongue," he remarks, with a lopsided grin.  
  
"I'm not here for _pleasantries_ , Julian," I retort, furrowing my brows. "I'm here to hear your side of the story."  
  
"Ah. You are here as the _detective_ , not the shopkeep," he says, pursing his lips. "Very well, ask anything you like."  
  
Pushing up my glasses, as I let out a sigh, I reach out in my satchel and pull out the scroll from the library, handing it over to the doctor. As he unfurls the scroll, his behavior starts to change – _brows are furrowed, there's a hint of pain, even regret in his eye_ – and after a brief exchange over how I ended up in its possession, he speaks with a strange voice.  
  
"Well, it's a letter, but I guess you already know that. _'Dear so and so,'_ " Julian begins to read, while I drink from my glass.  
  
" _Dear sister,_ " I correct him, reclining in the chair.  
  
"You–you can read this?" he asks, eye wide in shock.  
  
I give him a noncommital shrug. _Well, it's difficult to read such scrawls. I could only decipher a part of those words, and even so, it's hard to fill in the blanks, sometimes._  
  
"Ahem. Dear... dear sister," Julian starts to read, with a hand resting on his right temple, "I have much to share since I last wrote."  
  
"Winter has come to the palace... these marble floors are so cold each morning..."  
  
The more he reads, I notice that he pauses to massage his temples, to pinch the bridge of his nose – _this letter makes him very tense_ – and by the time he's finished, Julian looks wistful and drained.  
  
Rolling up the scroll, he hands it back to me and begins to toss the rest of his beer down his throat, an absentminded look in his eyes. When I say that it's quite obvious he has a sister, Julian sputters in the drink and his eye widens, stunned by my observation.  
  
_Oh, come on. Even a child could've noticed it._  
  
"I do. Haven't seen her since she was ohh... this high," he says, fingers fluttering just above the lip of the table. "Excuse me."  
  
Julian picks up his empty stein, along with the glass, intent on returning them to the bartender, when I hear shrill bickering coming from the crones' table. The doctor passes by their table, and leans over to whisper something to one of the crones, as he taps on one of the cards in her hand with a smile. When the card is played, the crowd around the table erupts into chaos, and Julian nearly avoids being doused with someone's drink.  
  
As he's returning to our table, there's a small smile on his face. "You would think I'd know better than to get involved."  
  
Putting my fingers together in thought, I give him a curious look, going over my earlier musings. "How come you're not worried about being seen?"  
  
"Here? Nooo. No. I'm not too worried. Folks around here aren't known to, uh, to oblige the wants and wishes of the Palace," Julian says, with his usual grin.  
  
_South Enders couldn't give a damn Julian Devorak drinks every night at the Rowdy Raven. The district of criminals, indeed._  
  
"Even the raven spends his time scouting for guards. Obsessively," he adds, brows furrowed.  
  
Julian scans the smoky rafters while I process this new information. _He must be talking about that raven I saw yesterday, when I was in the marketplace._ It would make sense why the guards are viewed as "enemies" for these people. In my neighborhood, the city guards are treated with reverence, and sometimes fear.  
  
Suddenly, the raven I've been thinking of bursts in through a dusty window overhead, as it flies in loops with a guttural shriek, until it lands on the lamplight above us. Then it starts banging his beak against the string of bells tied up around the lamplight's pole, and chaos erupts in the whole tavern as the barkeep yells about the guards coming. Patrons begin to claw their way out every door and window, as playing cards lay tossed around.  
  
Julian wastes no time in grabbing my arm and leading me out through the back door, into a dark alley behind the tavern, making sure that nobody is around. I start to shiver a little from the cold that's set outside, and notice that it's already evening. _The dinner! Gods above, I hope I shan't be late._  
  
"You'll be able to find your way, yes? The guards aren't after you..." the doctor says, voice low.  
  
I nod, and he clasps my arms, a stern look in his eye as our gazes meet. "Thanks. For not, well... thanks, Samir."  
  
He then turns and vanishes, leaving me all alone in this silent alley. I feel another shiver of cold down my spine, but I try to focus my thoughts on what I've learned so far. _Well, I'm still at square one, I have more questions instead of answers! How can I possibly offer Countess Nadia a solution to this mystery, if–no. I know that he has a sister, and he avoided detection so far because the raven alerts him. I'm not that empty-handed._


End file.
